Big and Slow

After painting the snowy sequoia scene, 24×48″, these current 18×36″ pieces shouldn’t feel large to me. 

Alas, they do.

I often tell my drawing students, “You can be fast or you can be good – you get to decide”. Then I say that in pencil, I get to be both fast and good. (If it is true, it isn’t bragging.)

In oil painting, it is necessary for me to be slow in order to be good, at least the way I define good (and my customers too, or they wouldn’t be customers).

These two oil paintings on the easels are going v e r y  s l o w l y.

I am jumping all over the canvas (not literally, don’t worry), chasing around different sections, based on the colors I mix and what catches my interest. Eventually it will all get covered.

The only difference between these two photos of the sunny sequoias is that I cleaned yellow off my brush on the second one. It was left from finishing the edges on the cowboy painting. The entire canvas needs to be covered multiple times, and wasting oil paint hurts my frugal heart, so now there is a strangely colored first layer near the bottom.

Your Central California artist continues to make art you understand, of places and things you love, at prices that won’t scare you.

(But sometimes her early color choices might.)

Working Studio

Some people get the words “studio” and “gallery” mixed up. A studio is where one creates art (as in “study”), and a gallery is where art is displayed and sold (we hope).

I have two studios: one is my real studio, where I draw and do computer things and paperwork; the other is actually part of a giant workshop building attached to our garages where I paint. It is a mess, which is fine for a place to paint, because sometimes I drop paintbrushes or spill turpentine. It is also where our three cats live safely at night.

This is a recent look at the workshop, my painting studio. Paintings in various stages of progress and drying are occupying the visible space; other paintings are stacked on shelves, waiting to be finished. Blank canvases are also stacked on shelves and leaning against the shelves too; since painting large, it is a little trickier to manage my canvases, especially when they are wet.

All this is in preparation for a show scheduled for January 2022. (If you see something you want to buy directly from me and not wait for it to be in a gallery, let’s talk!)

I make art that you can understand, about places and things you love, for prices that won’t scare you.

(but sometimes the painting workshop might be a little scary.)

Better Idea

After adding the birch branches to the Hard House oil painting commission, I happened to look at an oil painting of a Sequoia in my studio. For some reason, I haven’t really liked this painting very well.

Since it hasn’t sold, maybe no one else likes it either. After working on the sequoia mural and the giant snowy sequoia oil painting, I had an idea of how to improve it.

It always feels weird to put a completed painting back on the easel. It is a blend of feeling good about knowing I can improve it, and feeling a little embarrassed that I didn’t figure it out sooner.

Okay, now look:

Maybe I can do better. It took awhile to recognize the photo I used for this painting because I have definitely used it as reference only rather than an exact recipe.

Maybe I’ll keep messing with it. The contrast could be heightened on the main tree, and maybe a foggy looking distant sequoia would look believable behind it to the left, as in the photo. All the distant trees could be made grayer or lighter or something that shoves them farther back.

Who am I to think I can improve on nature? The answer is this: I am someone who understands that real life is messy and artists get to clean it up. For example, look at the large amount of dead branches on the 2 trees to the left of the main tree in the photo. What purpose would they serve in this painting? Likewise with the young tree in front on the right side – it obstructs the view of the big tree.

So many decisions for just one painting – it is a wonder I can even decide what to wear in the morning. Aha! That explains why I often don whatever I left on The Chair the night before.

I make art that you can understand, of places and things you love (CUSTOM ART), for prices that won’t scare you.

More Hard House

Before sending the photo to my friend/customer of the oil painting of her grandparents’ house, I studied it on the computer screen, comparing it to the photo.

The mistakes in perspective and proportion just knocked me sideways.

Some were fixable, some are not. Back on the easel it went with the main problem being the bay window.

My friend didn’t notice any trouble there but asked that window on the balcony to be turned into a sliding screen door, and for some grass to be planted in front of the porch.

After I did those things, I noticed another problem with the balcony and changed the proportions there.

It needs to dry, and I need to figure out when to say when.

And chances are that if you read this far, you are probably yawning and wondering what all the jibber-jabber is about. My friend is very patient, doesn’t understand all my pickiness, and is happy with the painting, now in her possession.

Meanwhile, I will keep working to. . .

. . .make art that people understand about places and things they love for prices that won’t scare them.

(Although sometimes the process scares me.)

 

New Big Oil Painting

When I started oil painting on March 8, 2006, I first drew out the painting in pencil on the canvas. Now I simply scribble with a paintbrush. One thing I do that is similar to drawing is to turn the canvas upside down. 

What is this mess?

It is Crescent Meadow in Sequoia National Park on a large (for me) 18×36″ canvas.

This is one more large oil painting toward the show that is coming at a Visalia gallery in January 2022. 

With each painting, I eventually. . .

. . . make art people understand about places and things they love for prices that won’t scare them.

Ride ’em, Cowboys

Now that the commissions are almost all finished, I can return to some of the larger paintings that I began last summer. I have an exhibition coming in January 2022. This will be the first time for me in a gallery for quite awhile, so I want to have some real knock-your-socks-off paintings for the show. 

Remember the cowboy painting back in October? (Probably not – why would you?)

It got this far and then the commissions started coming in.

Saddle up, Cowgirl! (The light is so different at different times of day, different times of the year, different methods of photography.)

These guys, their horses and the dog are quite challenging with nothing but blurry photos. I should be used to this by now.

The cowboys are looking better but someone probably needs to call a veterinarian for that poor canine. 

Better now. Jackson is certainly curious. (That is his pink nose in the sunshine behind the painting.)The edges need paint, and it needs a signature, but I will let it dry and think about it for awhile yet before deciding if it is truly completed.

 

Cabin Commission in Oil

I met a cabin owner who was interested in a drawing of his cabin. The cabin was closed for the season, which meant the flag wasn’t out, and the shutters were closed over the windows. I took an entire roll of film (JUST KIDDING – I’m not that old fashioned!) and then did this sketch to see if everything important to the cabin owner was included.

His wife asked if I could do the drawing in colored pencil. No, I cannot. Well, I could, but it would take months, and then I might need carpal tunnel surgery. 

So, we decided that an oil painting is the answer. These are really nice people, and they are not in a hurry. That’s good, because I want to do a great job on this, and I have the photos to work from. (Never mind that it was smoky smoky smoky when I took them.)

The proportions aren’t right. I let this dry (for 3 weeks!) while I worked on the jobs with deadlines. Then, I got serious.

This still looks rough. The windows are in place, but will look different when I open the shutters. This stage is still the early layering, getting the canvas covered, the placements and proportions correct.

After another layer or two, I’ll begin the fun phase of “drawing with my paintbrush”. I’m 61 years old and I can paint however I want (as long as the customer likes the results).

P.S. Because this is the World Wide Web, I am not showing the photos in order to protect the cabin owners’ privacy.

Big Sigh of Relief

After finishing the commissions with tight deadlines, I went back to the ones without a timeframe. 

First, the most difficult one, the Hard House. 

It needed some tightening up, and 2 baskets of fuchsias. But I decided it needed something more. There had been a birch tree in the front yard, but I didn’t want it to cover the gable end. So, branches coming from the left seemed to be the right approach.

The photo had a palm tree in the distance, and that seemed to be a helpful addition to all the empty sky on the right.

The edges are painted, it is signed, and now it needs to dry for awhile. It is too big for my scanner, so when it is dry, I’ll carry it out into the sunshine for a proper photograph.

Big deep sigh of relief.

Now, will I learn to turn down jobs with inadequate photos?

Probably not. Challenges are how one can increase in skill, and I like the idea of getting paid for the practice.

Turns out the sigh of relief was premature. To be continued as I bumble along in order to keep. . .

. . .making art people understand of places and things they love at prices that won’t scare them.

 

 

Napkin Art

A dear friend of mine and I were together a few weeks ago, eating something, and there were some really pretty napkins on the table. We both said, “Wow, that is so pretty”, or something to that effect. She is a jokester, someone with a sense of humor that makes me laugh at the dumbest things. She popped off with, “You can paint that for me!” That is an outrageous thing to say, and it made me laugh.

So, I did, knowing my equally impulsive and outrageous response would make her laugh.

Copyright law says that if the original artist can recognize her work, it doesn’t matter if you change it 10% (that used to be a common but wrong myth).

My excuses are: 1. I changed the scene some; 2. The artist’s name is not on the paper napkin; 3. I am not profiting from it.

Excuses made. I started on a rainy Sunday afternoon at the dining room table, tickled about how surprised my friend would be.

Then I had real jobs to do, custom art with deadlines to meet, so it just went into the Later Pile for awhile. After I finished those jobs with the tight deadlines, I wanted some more fun. Working with these bright colors qualifies as fun in my little world.

The fruits on the napkin are grocery store food; around here in the Land of Fruits and Nuts, California’s Flyover Country where no one knows about us and no one cares, WE FEED THE WORLD!  We have pomegranates, persimmons, stone fruit (my friend’s favorite are plums), and of course citrus. 

I worked from my own fruits, both real and photos, of which I have a huge stack from when little canvases of fruits sold steadily at those boutiques and festivals.

Here it is freshly finished, drying on the wall in the painting workshop. I like mine better than the one on the napkin.

I don’t know if I should even sign this. Is a fruit basket generic and universal enough, along with my tighter and brighter style, that this can qualify as my art?? Did I break the law? Would the original artist care? Do I care when people do this to my work? 

Too many questions.

My friend is thrilled with her new painting, and I am too.

Hard House

After Christmas I will show you all the commissions that have to remain a secret until the gifts have been given from my customers to their people.

Having met the tight deadlines of all the custom art, I returned to the paintings without deadlines. Remember the house painting?

So hard. So very hard. The photos. Yikes. (Would I like some cheese with that whine? perhaps – what have you got?)

Okay, put on your big girl breeches and git ‘er dun.

I sent this photo to the customer to tell her this is the best I can dig out of the photos and when it dries a bit, I’ll tighten up some of the detail.

She said, “Perfect!” (really??) and sent me this photo:

Umm, what?

There is a basket of fuschias hanging behind the people. I told her that I can’t tell where this is, and she answered, “The porch”. I said where on the porch? She sent me this and said, “Where I put the white spots”. 

I enjoy communicating with my customers in a variety of creative ways. Really makes me smile!

When it dries, I’ll add the fuschia baskets and tighten up what detail I can see. I think the floor of the porch is brick rather than concrete, so that will need to be changed. There was a tree in the front lawn, but it would hide the gable end if I added it. I’ll make better leaves on the front shrub, brighten the grass, make the porch pillars better, and the window frames too.

I wish she had asked for a pencil drawing.

So, I worked on something fun in order to take the edge off. I’ll show you tomorrow.